No Surrender
by DancingInTheDark85
Summary: What if John and Jessica's stories were more intertwined than we ever got to see on the show? This is John's coming of age story in which events in his early life come to shape the complicated man we know and love.
1. Born In The USA

So I've always kinda thought that John's longing for Jessica is as much about her representation of the person he could have been as it is about her. I still think this is true but now I wonder if she was so much more than the sixth month relationship we see on screen, also he must have done something to make Jessica's mum think he was a bad egg when we all know he was likely to be adorable before the CIA corrupted him. This is my Wonderboy: Origins story. Also, since we know Reese can quote Springsteen (2.06 The High Road), I've used that knowledge unashamedly in this. I don't own POI or the work of The Boss. I promise it's not a songfic.

Authors Note update: So I wrote this fic before I reached the end of the end of the series, using the info given in 3.1 Liberty and 3.11 Lethe. (Also the two episodes that gave me the Springsteen connection.) As a result I didn't have all the info on John's past that I do now. I chose to use Jim Caviezel's birthdate (and his Irish heritage), and as a result, his father dies a little earlier than it turns out he did. Sorry for the discrepancy, I promise all other details have been meticulously researched.

* * *

No Surrender

Part 1

Chapter 1: Born In The USA

There are some songs that stop you in your tracks. There's something about the intro, an incredible guitar riff or lyrics that speak to you like it was written from your own thoughts. You'll freeze what you're doing, concentrate on the song and sit with it until the last notes fade. And then whenever you hear that song you'll remember exactly where you were, exactly what you were feeling when you first heard it.

It was the summer of 1984 and John Feris, the boy who would eventually become John Reese, was furious. The evening was warm, after an unusually hot day. The sun was going down towards the tree line behind the row of small houses that lined the wide street. His mother was in the kitchen, baking for a church fete, her small town transistor radio sat on the windowsill, turned up as high as it would go to drown out the sound of John angrily slamming the basketball against the concrete of their drive.

The radio DJ announced the next song, a hot new release from the album of the same name. He promised that this was going to be the soundtrack to the summer, and then the first lyrics tore through the air in an urgent and gravelly voice, "Born down in a dead man's town, The first kick I took was when I hit the ground..."

'Dead man's town', John thought to himself wryly. Sounds about right. He listened as the song continued, weaving its story of a young boy sent to war, the pointlessness of it all, and the utter destain he got treated with when he got back. It was a story he knew too well. He glanced through the window to his mother who had been washing up at the sink, she'd frozen too. And he caught her as she hastily dried her eye with the back of her soap-sudded hand.

John had stopped the violent abuse of his ball by throwing it at the hoop, scoring a three pointer but then catching it and standing with it clutched to his chest while he took in the lyrics. He was breathing heavy, covered in sweat, his tall but wiry body drained with the long hours of practice he'd put in since coming home from school. He hated school with a passion, but never so much as today, when his gym coach had told him to concentrate on his other studies because he'd never be good enough for a basketball scholarship. The news had been devastating to the fifteen year old boy, he knew his mother didn't have enough money to send him to college, so it was a scholarship or nothing. And he couldn't be a nothing, following the other boys to the factories and the mills like their fathers, like his father, like the young man in the song.

He thought bitterly about his father, as he often did. The man had joined the army when he'd barely been of legal age, only a few years older than John was now. From the way his mother had told it, he'd been the most dashing of all the recruits, and the bravest. The war in Vietnam was just starting and he was determined to be a hero. By all accounts, he had been. It was as though he couldn't get enough of the war, was deployed four times, even though the last time they'd offered to pension him out early because of a shrapnel wound to his shoulder, he still went back.

He'd come home with a ton of medals and a group of buddies he'd met out there, some of whom had nowhere to come home to, so he invited them to stay in their tiny weatherboard house. The mighty war hero had gone back to work at the refinery and the evenings were spent round the kitchen table as the comrades in arms smoked and reminisced, his mother stood on the sidelines ready to get them another beer or listen and smile at an anecdote that was deemed to be particularly hilarious. John had been in awe of his father, he'd often sat him on his lap while he entertained his guests. John had barely known him, he'd been at war for John's whole life, but he'd felt the love he'd had for him in that strong embrace.

It had lasted barely two months, and then one day the refinery foreman had rung the doorbell. John hadn't heard the conversation but he'd known as soon as his mother had sunk to her knees in the hallway that he wasn't coming home. John had still been a month away from his fifth birthday.

He'd worshiped his father and his memory, the same way his mother did for a very long time. But now that he was almost sixteen and was starting to think about his own choices, the man made him angry. It was as though the army had been everything, even after he'd come home. Why had he been so eager to stay in the war, had he not loved them enough to come home when the opportunity arose? Even if he'd still had that refinery accident, it would have meant he'd have more precious time with them before it had happened. Now when he thought back to those nights sat round the kitchen table, he didn't think of the beaming smile of his father so much as the wistful lonely smile of his mother left on the sidelines. When he'd been younger, he'd wanted to be in the army just like his dad, but he had seen the look of horror on his mothers face when he'd voiced the thought and had decided there was no way he'd put his mom through that again.

Problem was, what now? And the only answer was a scholarship. He knew most of his classmates weren't thinking about this stuff yet, but he hated this town so much he needed an escape plan. When he'd asked his mom she'd been predictably vague, "Don't worry honey, you'll be alright." Alright? What did that mean? It meant he'd get a job down at the refinery like everybody else, he'd seethed. "There's nothing wrong with that." She'd replied and he'd nearly thrown something. There was everything wrong with that! She'd probably taken one look at his test scores and decided her son would never be a doctor or an airline pilot, in her head he was going to have a good honest job at the refinery and raise her some grandkids. His test scores were a bone of contention with himself and frustration for a number of his teachers. It's not that he wasn't bright, he knew, it was just that whenever he was sat in class for more than five minutes his attention started to wander and he started to fidget. The only thing he seemed able to focus on with any intensity was basketball. And today he'd been told that he wasn't good enough at that either.

The song was a warning, he decided, throwing the ball again and scoring another basket. It was a reminder that he had to get out of this life any way he could, and if that meant practicing basketball every day until he was good enough for that scholarship then that's what he'd do.

He carried on working the ball around the drive and shooting hoops until it had long since gone dark and his mother called him in, reminding him he had another day of school before the weekend. He nearly complained, but thought better of it and did as he was told. He kissed her goodnight and went to have a shower before bed.

He lay down in his little box of a room and stared at the posters on the walls. He'd adorned his plain blue walls with posters of all his personal sporting heroes from the NBA, NFL and MLB in the hope that they'd inspire him to push himself harder. Of course some of the posters hid an inspiration of a different kind, if you lifted up the corners that weren't taped to the wall, you'd find a selection of his favourites taken from old Playboy magazines that had been passed around the boy's locker room at school. Girls in bikinis on a beach photo shoot or draped over motorbikes, that sort of thing, nothing his God-fearing mother would find too unforgivable. This way he could go to sleep dreaming of his sporting stars, and if he couldn't sleep, well, that's what the girls were for.

He couldn't sleep tonight, but he knew it was going to take a lot more than working out a few of his teenage frustrations before he relaxed. It was eleven pm, he had to be up at five for his paper round before school, but a night of staring at his four walls was going to drive him crazy. He waited until he saw the light under his door from the hallway go out, signalling his mother had gone to bed, before he got up and threw on a pair of jeans, a tee shirt and his sneakers and stuffed his Walkman into his back pocket. His window, like the rest of the house was old and creaked, but he knew just how to open it so that it didn't make a noise. From his window, if he reached out he could just grasp the houses flagpole, where the Stars and Stripes had flown at half mast since the day his father had died. From there he could easily slide to the ground and in minutes he was gone.

Hands stuffed into his jeans pockets, he made his way down to Clark's Creek Park, Van Halen blaring in his headphones. There was about as much to do in this town after dark as his own bedroom but at least he was out of that oppressive house. Even after ten years he felt the ghost of his father still lingering there. He got to the park and disappeared into the trees, following the well worn path down to the creek, unsure what he'd do when he got there. What he really wanted was a car, to be able to turn up the music and gun it down the highway until the speed and the dark made him feel better, perhaps he'd just take off and never come back. But it would be a long time until he got a car, if ever, at this rate, his mom couldn't even afford one of her own and making a couple of dollars a day throwing papers from the back of his bike was not going to cut it.

The last song on the cassette faded out and he was left with the soft whirring of tape scrolling through the machine. As he stopped it to change sides he heard it something up ahead. His first thought was a bear, they often came to town looking for food and there was a family of them known to live in the park, but he soon realised it was a human. There, stood down by the creek he could see someone with long blonde hair cascading down her back to a slim waist. John was going to ignore her, he wasn't great with talking to girls and he wanted to be left alone, but then he heard her sigh, and it sounded sad, so instead he slung his headphones round his neck and approached her.

He made sure to make a noise as he approached so that he didn't spook her, but she had her headphones on too and didn't notice him until he got close. When she realised he was there, she jumped and turned around, taking a second to recognise him from school.

"John! You scared me." She admonished, pulling off her headphones so she could speak to him.

"Jessica, what are you doing out here?" His heart skipped a beat, surprised that one of the prettiest girls in his year even knew his name. But he wasn't going to question that now, he was far more concerned with the deepening bruise on her cheekbone. "What happened?" He nearly reached out to touch it but stopped himself.

"Nothing." She said hastily, pulling up a hand to cover it. But the move backfired because the sleeve of her long sleeved tee shirt slipped and he saw another bruise encircling her wrist. It was hard to tell in the dark but it looked like a handprint.

"Who did this to you?" He asked gently.

"Don't worry about it." She said, drawing her hair behind her ear. She turned away and sat down on a fallen log beside the creek. Tentatively, John sat beside her.

"What are you doing out here anyway?" She asked.

John shrugged, "I just needed to get out of the house. Doesn't seem important now."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I needed to get out of the house too." Jessica said quietly.

"Who hurt you Jess? Was it that bastard Aaron?" Aaron was one of the school's lesser known football players, and the guy that Jessica had been dating for the last few months. He was loud, with loud friends and took pride in his 'attitude problem' which he thought made him cool. John would love an excuse for a fight with him, although he didn't doubt that he would come off worse. John had the height advantage but was still too skinny.

Jess shook her head. "Aaron's not a bastard. And it wasn't him. Why do you care anyway?"

"Because whoever it was had no right to hurt you." John said fiercely.

Jessica stared down at her sandalled feet as she spoke. "It was my dad."

That made John even angrier but he held it in. "I'm not afraid of your dad either. If you want me to I could..."

"No." She shook her head vehemently. "Don't, you'll only make it worse. Ah, John," she sighed, "you're never afraid of anyone, but you always take a beating. Why do you always feel the need to stick up for people?"

"Surprised you noticed." John smiled at her.

"What? Everybody at school notices. John Feris, mysterious Protector of the Weaks and Geeks."

John laughed gently at that. He hadn't heard the nickname before.

"Why do you bother? You're not friends with any of them."

"I just don't think it's right that's all. Look, does your mom know what your dad did?" He asked, trying to get back on topic.

"Yeah, she said I shouldn't have made him angry." She said bitterly. "I don't want to think about it, can we talk about something else?"

"Err, yeah sure." John nodded nervously. He wondered what on earth he had in common with this girl, he quickly realised talking about school would make him appear lame. "What were you listening to?" He indicated her Walkman.

"The new Bruce Springsteen album. Are you a fan?"

John smiled, "I'm starting to get an appreciation for him, yeah."

They spent the next hour huddled together, twisting her headphones so that they could have an earpiece each as they listened to the new album in its entirety. The more John listened, the more he found a lot of the songs seemed to speak to him. The characters in them were from small towns with little in the way of prospects but still had the same drive to escape their circumstances that he did. Jessica loved them and he found her enthusiasm infectious. She told him how she was desperate to go to a concert but that her parents thought she was too young. She talked about his music for ages and John listened to her attentively, drinking in their closeness, trying to commit the moment to memory in the minutest detail.

When the album finished, Jessica said she had to get home, so John walked her back. She made him stop before he got there in case her parents were still up and he watched her from behind a tree as she dashed home and snuck back in, closing the door behind her silently. He walked back to his own home, eight blocks back the way he'd come, with his thoughts filled with her.

* * *

By the time he got home he only had a few hours to sleep before getting up for his paper round. He completed his round slower than usual and then had to hurry, almost missing the bus to school. The day went the same as most others, except this time he was even more distracted than usual. In history, he sat in his usual seat at the back of the class with his head down, watching through the hair that fell in front of his face, as Jessica and Aaron flirted their way through the whole period.

Jessica was as bright and smiling as she always was, she'd carefully covered her bruises with make up so you could only see anything was wrong if you knew to look. She spent the day clinging onto the arm of Aaron and joking with her friends. John spent the whole day trying to catch her eye but to no avail. He was starting to think that he'd dreamt the events of the previous evening, until the final bell rang for the end of the day.

John was at his locker, dumping his book bag before going to get changed for basketball practice, when Jessica sidled up to him. She glanced over her shoulder as though to make sure she wasn't seen talking to him. "Hey John." She smiled sweetly, "thank you for last night." As she walked away she pulled something out of her bag and pressed it into his palm. John watched her walk away and catch up to a girl friend before looking down at his hand. It was a home-recorded cassette. He smiled as he read her carefully printed handwriting on the paper sleeve, she'd copied the new Springsteen album for him. He went to practice with a smile that not even his hated coach could wipe from his face.

There was another month of school left, but fate seemed to conspire against him and he never got the chance to speak to her. Aaron was always there, and they seemed to be getting more serious by the day. He tried sneaking out and going to the creek a few times but she was never there. And then the summer hit and she spent the whole summer at camp with Aaron.

John spent the summer working. His mother's friend had a farm on the outskirts of town, so after his paper round he would cycle out there and muck out stables or stack hay bales for a few hours each day. When he got home he stripped down to his shorts and practiced basketball in his yard for hours, sometimes with the few friends of his that also hadn't gone away to camp but most often alone. By the time the evening came he was exhausted, and spent the evenings just sitting on his porch watching the sun go down while he listened to his Walkman. He often played the tape that Jessica had made him, and wondered what she was doing. He knew he was torturing himself with thoughts of her, but just couldn't bring himself to stop.


	2. I'm On Fire

Part 1

Chapter 2: I'm On Fire

When school came back around, John was a little bit taller, tanned and toned from his work on the farm. But that was about the only thing that was new. His classmates were full of summer gossip, who was going out with who, who'd thrown the best house party, whose parents had taken them to California for the summer, but to John it was all the same nonsense they talked about for the rest of the year. The only piece of gossip he was interested in was what Jessica was doing, and frustratingly it seemed she and Aaron were stronger than ever.

He spent the week kicking himself for having spent the whole summer thinking about her, until Friday which was the basketball tryouts for this years team. John had put a lot of effort in over the summer and he knew he'd improved. He was determined to rub his coach's nose in it and poured everything into his game. When it was over he knew he'd been one of the highest scorers and watched his coach's face for a reaction but all he got was a raised eyebrow, and a tick by his name. John rolled his eyes. Still, at least he'd made the team.

He scanned across the crowd of students who had come to watch and suddenly saw a familiar head of blonde hair. Jessica was sat on the upper steps of the bleachers with a few friends. He brushed sweaty hair from his forehead and gave her a smile, she smiled back. She stood up and descended down to the court to speak to him. "Hey," she greeted. "How was your summer?"

"Alright." John said, there was little else to say. While the rest of his class had been having fun he'd been working his ass off. "What are you doing here? I didn't see Aaron trying out." He looked around, although he knew the other boy wasn't there. The school sports program was intense and there was no way you could play for more than one team. You had to pick your sport and stick to it, and Aaron's was football.

Jessica laughed, "My friends just wanted to come and gawp at some basketball boys." She indicated the group of giggling girls she'd been sat with. "It's very sleazy. I promise I'm only here as a serious fan of the sport."

John smirked, "Serious fan huh? So, you think you have a favourite player this year?"

"Yeah, that boy over there." She teased, indicating a smallish boy, who had tried hard but who had sadly been run ragged by the taller, stronger boys.

John smiled, "Backing the underdog. I can appreciate that."

"So, it's September, you going to the Fair tonight right?" Every year for three weeks in September, Puyallup hosted the state's biggest fair. John could see the Ferris wheel from the back of his house, and all week the air had been filled with the smell of cotton candy and the sounds of the various rides.

"I was thinking about it."

"What's to think about?" Jessica saw that her friend's were waiting for her. "I have to go. Maybe I'll see you tonight?"

"Maybe." John said.

Jessica left to join her friends and heard one of them say, "Why you talking to him? You know he's like, a proper loner right?"

John's heart sank as he trudged to the showers, 'proper loner', yeah, that was him, he thought. Proper loser, he corrected.

* * *

John spent the evening helping his mother repaint the weatherboard on their house instead. It was hardly what the cool kids would consider fun, but they played music and chatted while they worked and it took John's mind off the fair. There was no way he was going there if it meant standing on the sidelines watching Jessica with Aaron all night.

"So," his mother dabbed his nose with the end of her wet paintbrush to get his attention. "Who is she?" She crossed her arms over her chest as she studied him. His mother was a petite woman with dark hair that she'd pulled up and hidden under a bandanna to protect it while she worked. It hadn't worked, the scrap of red material had slipped and there was a streak of white in her exposed hair. They were both in old jeans and tee shirts and bare feet to keep from ruining their shoes. Somehow they'd both gotten completely covered in paint.

"Who's who Mom?" John asked, feigning ignorance.

"The girl you're mooning over. Come on, Mom's know everything."

John just sighed and looked down at his feet. "It doesn't matter, she's with someone else. Some football jerk."

"Well," she had to stand up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "She doesn't know what she's missing. So, it's your birthday soon, sweet sixteen. Any idea what you want?"

A smile settled on John face, "I think I do."

* * *

It was the middle of the night when John woke to the sound of something tapping against his window. He shot awake and listened. There is was again, a tap on his window. He flung back the covers and went to look out. Jessica was stood under his window, dressed in the sundress she'd worn to the fair. Her hair was disheveled and her mascara had run down her face where she'd been crying.

"Jessica?" He gasped. "What's wrong?"

"Can we talk?" She said, her voice wavering.

"Yeah, sure. Hold on." He pulled on his paint-stained jeans and tee shirt from the pile on the floor, grabbed his jean jacket from the back of his door and slipped out the window and dropped to the ground beside her.

She wiped the tears from her cheeks and gave him a shaky smile as he placed his jacket round her shoulders. It wasn't cold, but the lateness of the hour had brought a chill to the air. They sat together on the front step of the veranda of the small house and John for waited her to explain.

"Aaron's an asshole!" She said vehemently.

John stifled a smirk but said nothing.

"We were at the fair. Some of the boys brought a bottle of cheap ass whiskey and got stupid drunk. Then he started accusing me of sleeping with you."

John frowned but let her continue her story.

"We had a fight and he stormed off. I told him not to drive but he did anyway. He crashed his car into a tree."

John felt a flare of anger at the boy's stupidity, but tamped it down and managed to sound sincere when he asked. "Is he hurt?"

"He killed Billy." Billy was another football player and one of Aaron's closest friends. "I went to go and see him at the hospital and he blamed me in front of everyone."

"You know it's not your fault don't you?" John said gently.

"But if we hadn't had that fight he wouldn't have been so angry and driven so fast. I could've convinced him to walk home instead."

"No." John said firmly. "Don't do that to yourself. He was being stupid. And if Billy got in the car with him while he was drunk then Billy was being stupid too." It was perhaps the wrong thing to say, not very sympathetic to his classmate who'd just died, but he was furious that Jessica was being blamed for something that had nothing to do with her.

"My Mom blames me too." Jessica admitted. "She's not said as much but I can see it in her eyes. I don't want to go home."

"You can stay here if you like." John said the words before he thought about them, but as soon as the words had left his lips he was sure he'd made a mistake. Her boyfriend just almost died, and you're a proper loser, he reminded himself.

He was thoroughly taken aback when she looked him in the eyes and said, "Could I?"

He stood up and took her by the hand, guiding her to her feet. Her legs were trembling at the stresses of the evening but he realised his were too, but with anticipation. He'd spent all summer thinking of her, he couldn't actually believe that she was about to enter his room. She probably just wanted to sleep, he told himself, but at the same time his body was reacting with excitement in a way he couldn't control. He could only hope that it was dark enough that she didn't notice the uncomfortable bulge in his jeans. Stop it, he told himself, she'll think you're a loser and a perve, but his little self-admonition didn't work.

"I'll..." John had to clear his throat before the words would come out. "I'll go round and open the door, gimme a minute."

He went to grab the flagpole to climb back into his room, but she held out an arm and stopped him. "Give me a boost." She said instead.

He did as he was told, kneeling and lacing his fingers together. She placed her foot delicately in his hands and as he boosted her she reached up and grabbed the flagpole, pulling herself up and wrapping her skinny legs round the pole as she shimmied towards his window. He watched her in awe as she slipped into his room.

He followed her up and climbed in after her. She was glancing round the small room, trying to learn something new about its occupant from the things in it. John suddenly felt a flash of shame at the spartan accommodations, the single bed, the ancient peeling wallpaper that his posters had tried but failed to hide, the pile of dirty clothes on the floor. He knew she lived in the nicer part of town and that Aaron's parents made good money. He kicked the dirty clothes under the bed, hoping she wouldn't notice. She obviously did, but pretended not to, instead going to his bedside table and picking up the framed photo there.

The picture was old and the colour had been bleached by the sun. It had been taken the day that his father had come home from Vietnam. His father was dressed smartly in full dress uniform, with a wide grin on his face as he clutched his mother to him in a tight hug, while holding John, aged 4, on his hip. His parents looked happy, but John, who peered out from under a mop of dark hair just looked a bit bewildered, sat on the hip of a man he barely knew but who he was supposed to be elated to see.

"Your dad looks nice." Jessica commented. John just shrugged. He wasn't the only kid in class to have been made fatherless, they were at an age where most of their dads had been drafted. He'd been the only one who'd gotten his dad back only to lose him in a refinery accident two months later though. It was a tragedy the town still talked about ten years later, Conor Feris had been well liked by all and the loss still hurt.

John felt the mood shift, clearly a non-committal shrug was the wrong response. After all, she'd shared her emotions with him, it seemed only fair to give something back. "I guess so, everyone said he was. I never really got the chance to know him." It wasn't much but it was the best he could manage.

She put the photo down and smiled at him. She still had tears on her cheeks, he reached forward and wiped them away with his thumb. They were stood close now, he towered over her, breathing her in. She smelt of fruity shampoo and cotton candy from the fair. He wanted to pull her closer but was so nervous, so convinced he was about to screw this up.

It was Jessica who look the lead, standing on tiptoe and pulling his head down into a kiss. John kissed back, clumsily at first, his heart racing, but he managed to slow himself down, matching her more practiced technique until they were both left gasping. Jessica smiled at him gently and lead him to the bed. She kissed him again and then pulled his shirt over his head, running her hands over his smooth, tanned chest. John played with the thin straps of her sundress, tugging them down gently until the thin fabric pooled at her waist.

"This is my first time." John stammered out nervously as a warning as he traced his fingers across her collarbone and then down to her breast.

"Mine too." She admitted. John had no idea if it was the truth or whether she was just saying it to make him feel better. As he caught her lips in his again, he decided he didn't care.


	3. Darkness On The Edge Of Town

Part 1

Chapter 3: Darkness On The Edge Of Town

The sun shone in through the worn curtains, filling the room with warmth. John woke and it took him a moment to realise he wasn't still dreaming. He was laying on his back, naked, with an equally naked Jessica tucked into his side, her head resting on his chest. He stroked her hair and kissed her head gently, wanting to savour this moment before she woke up and told him it had all been a big mistake.

But the moment was interrupted by a loud banging on the front door. Jessica woke up with a jolt and met John's gaze with a look of panic. There was another loud thump on the door and then they listened as John's mom opened it.

"Where is he? The little shit!" A deep voice rang out.

"That's my dad." Jessica whispered. John put his finger on his lips to tell her to be quiet and he pulled her in closer.

"What's going on? Who on Earth are you?" John's mom could be heard to say, but there was also a slamming of the front door against the wall as he barged through and the stomping of heavy feet as he stormed up the stairs.

Jessica stared at John in panic. He leapt up and grabbed her clothes tossing them under the bed and holding the rumpled sheets aside so she could hide under too. As she disappeared, he snatched up his clothes and had just enough time to pull his boxers and jeans on before the door was slammed open so hard that the knob put a hole in the drywall. John froze, his jeans hanging off his slim hips, in the process of doing up his belt, and was met by the angry red face of Jessica's father.

Brad Matherson was a burly man who ran the lumber yard on the outskirts of town. He was muscular, with the broad chest and meaty hands of a man who'd once been used to lugging heavy logs all day. He was tall, but even at fifteen John was a couple of inches taller. The slight teen knew that his height wouldn't be enough to help him here though, the fact that Matherson was having to look up at him was just making the man angrier.

"Where is she?" The man snarled, reaching out and grabbing John around the neck, managing to lift John up so he was on tiptoe, scrabbling for purchase.

"I don't know!" John gasped out. The man's hand was tight around his neck and squeezing enough to cut off the air supply. "I haven't seen her since school!"

John's mum appeared in the doorway, a horrified expression on her face. "Get off him!" She screamed and lunged forward. She grabbed his arm and tried to pull him off. Jessica's dad grabbed the petite woman and swung a punch, catching her in the eye and causing her to stagger back against the doorframe.

At the sight of his mother being punched, John saw red. He swung his fist but the man's face was just out of reach, so he kicked him instead, aiming for his knee and causing it to give way. Matherson flung John down onto his bed with a snarl and threw a punch at his face. John twisted and ducked out of the way, but Matherson snatched him up and slammed him face first into the wooden headboard. The edge of the wood caught John's eyebrow and split the skin, causing a rush of blood down his face.

Matherson had him pinned to the bed and was drawing back his fist for another hit when Jessica scrambled out from under the bed, fully clothed and yelled, "Daddy stop!"

"You little whore!" The man accused nastily. He lunged for her but John grabbed him and held him back. He received a sharp elbow to the face but refused to release his grip.

"Get out of my house!" Maggie Feris' voice was cold and it made everyone freeze and look at her. She'd run from the room and now she was back, holding one of John's dad's old revolvers. John had never even seen it before, but as she pulled the hammer back, her hand didn't even shake.

Matherson glared at her but obviously knew when to concede defeat. He stood up and John released his grip on him. "Come on Jess, lets go!" He ordered.

Jessica moved meekly to go with him but Maggie shook her head. "No, she's welcome here as long as she likes. And I'm not letting her go with you until I know you've calmed down."

Jessica glanced at John and he grabbed her hand, giving her the strength to stay. When she stood her ground, her father huffed and then walked out. Maggie followed him down the stairs, still pointing the gun at him, to ensure he didn't change his mind. John and Jessica stayed frozen, holding hands until they heard the door slam and then his truck start up and pull away.

They both let out a breath they didn't know they'd been holding, and John pulled Jessica into a hug. John's mum then came back up the stairs and John snaked an arm out and wrapped her into a hug too. All three of them stood together trembling with fear and anger and adrenaline, while they calmed their racing hearts.

"I'm so sorry." Jessica said shakily.

"Are you okay Mom?" John asked inspecting the darkening bruise round her left eye.

"I'll be fine." She assured. "But John, you're a mess. Come on, let's get you cleaned up." She took her son by the hand and started to lead him down to the kitchen. When she noticed Jessica stayed still she turned to her and smiled, "Jessica is it? Come on, let me get John fixed up and I'll make us some breakfast."

Maggie sat them both down at the kitchen table and chatted away as though nothing had happened. John watched his mom in quiet awe as she talked to Jessica as though John had brought her over for dinner, making the frightened and embarrassed girl feel at ease. All the while she went about getting the first aid kit out and cleaning the blood from John's face and chest. She finished her ministrations with an old trick that Conor had picked up in the army, superglue. She had John hold the cut on his brow shut while she applied a thin layer of the viscous liquid and waited as it set. It wasn't the first time she'd had to piece her son back together, there had been numerous accidents and fights over the years and the glue was a lot cheaper than stitches at the hospital. John was used to her patching him up, but he'd never thought he'd see her aim a gun and stare down a huge rage-filled man.

"Your mom is amazing." Jessica whispered across the table, as the woman tidied away the kit and set about making pancakes.

John just smiled at her back and nodded. His face and neck throbbed and were starting to swell, and yet he felt luckier than he'd ever felt in his life.

* * *

By the time Monday came, the whole town knew what had happened with Billy, but they assumed that the cut to John's eye and the obvious purple handprint around his neck had been Aaron's doing. John tried to ignore the stares he got, especially when Jessica came up to him in the halls and kissed him on the cheek. They'd spent all weekend together but as Sunday rolled around, she'd gone back home. John hadn't slept all night because he'd been worried about her, but she seemed to be fine. John had thought it best to stay away from Jessica for her sake, after all people were already gossiping about her involvement in Friday's tragedy, but she obviously thought differently and used every opportunity to be with him. As much as he hated being the centre of attention, he found he was enjoying this.

But while they spent all their available time together at school, Jessica was determined not to cause further trouble at home, so she would go straight back every evening. This put a damper on this blossoming romance for John, but as much as it frustrated him, he understood why she did it.

However when his birthday came, the same as it did every year, with just his mom presenting him his cake at an otherwise empty dining room table, he couldn't help but be a little stung by it. His mom did her best to make it an enjoyable evening, but had been unable to lift his spirits. It had been over a week but they were both still bruised from their encounter with Brad Matherson. In the end she just smiled at him and said, "Even if it doesn't work out, you did the right thing by protecting her. And I'm sure she's grateful."

* * *

John went to bed early but couldn't sleep. Instead he put his headphones on and listened to music in the dark, staring at his ceiling. He must have drifted off though eventually, because he was woken by a noise at his window. Suddenly the curtain was pulled back from the outside and Jessica slid into his room, having climbed up from the outside. She stood in his room, dressed in a simple jeans and sweater, her blonde hair glinting in the moonlight as she tucked it back behind her ear.

John sat up, instantly worried, "What's wrong?" He asked, thinking of the last time she came to his house in the middle of the night, but she smiled at him and he relaxed back against the headboard.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm just bringing you your birthday present." She smiled as she pulled her sweater and shirt off, dropping them to the floor as she crawled onto his bed and caught him in a kiss.

"Did you have a good birthday?" Jessica smiled, hours later as they lay tucked against each other on his narrow bed.

John grinned and kissed her again. "The best."

"What did you get from your mom?" She asked.

John almost told her excitedly but remembered the original plan at the last minute and smirked at her, "Something good. Meet me after school on October 19th and you'll get to find out."

Jessica climbed back out of his room in the early hours of the morning, both of them buoyed up with a renewed excitement about their relationship and the impending surprise that John had for her. John stumbled to the shower, absolutely exhausted but needing to get ready for his paper round. It was going to be a long day, on no sleep, with basketball practice after school too, but he wouldn't complain, every second of sleeplessness had been worth it.

* * *

On Friday 19th October, John was even more distracted in class than usual. He had his birthday present in his pocket and it felt like it was burning a hole. He'd checked at least a dozen times that it was still there, but refused to tell Jessica where they were going. He'd put on his best jeans, a red checked shirt with the sleeves rolled up and had washed his white high tops to try to improve the look of his scuffed sneakers. Jessica had worn a short red skirt and a white blouse with her favourite pair of tan cowboy boots with her denim jacket over the top. She looked casual yet breathtakingly beautiful to him.

The day seemed go really slowly, but eventually the bell rang and John leapt up from his seat. His last class had been Math, a subject which Jessica was in an AP class for, so he'd arranged to meet her at her locker. He dumped his book bag in his own locker and then waited next to hers, leaning against them trying to hide his eager impatience.

The hall was packed with students, all rowdy and enthusiastic about the weekend. But despite the chaos, John noticed the noise of someone slamming back against a metal locker accompanied by a slight whimper. John pushed his way through the crowds until he found the source of the noise. A group of seniors were crowded around a smaller boy who had been smashed against the locker. The smaller boy was smartly dressed in chinos and a button down shirt, his thick glasses had slipped down his face and his hand shook as he pushed them back up his nose.

"Get away from him." John growled.

"You think I'm going to intimidated by a Sophomore?" One of the older boys sneered.

"Maybe not, but at least it will give you the chance to pick on someone your own size." John growled.

"You just love a beat down, don't you Feris?" A tall, heavyset boy sneered back. "Why is that? You miss your daddy? Did he used to beat you too?"

John snarled with rage as he threw the first punch. It landed hard on the older boy's cheek and snapped his head to the side. The boy roared as he grabbed John's shirt with both fists and flung him. John got his hands out to break his fall, but he still landed on the tiled hallway floor hard. A crowd had gathered now to watch the fight and he heard a girlish yelp from the audience at the violence. He knew from that that Jessica had to be watching.

The last thing he wanted was for Jessica to watch him get his ass kicked for the second time, and it gave him a surge of extra strength as he kicked out and sent the young thug crashing to the ground. He noticed with satisfaction that the small, mousy boy had been released as the group came to the defence of their friend, and that he'd managed to skitter away, flinging John a guilty look as he abandoned him to his fate.

John was vastly outnumbered, but determined not to take it lying down. However, as he tried to get up, one of the bullies landed a punch to his face and then a kick to his ribs, causing John to flip and land on his back. From there, he was vulnerable, and the punches and blows rained down on him. He tried to get up, but those tormenting fists were relentless and all he could do was curl into a ball to protect himself and try his best to ignore the pain.

A shout from a teacher caused the whole thing to stop. The boys froze, and then scrambled back, leaving John wheezing on the floor, legs drawn up and arms wrapped protectively round his ribs. Jessica pushed through the crowd and crouched down beside him. He allowed her to help him sit up and he looked up at the fuming face of his gym teacher.

"All of you are suspended." He ordered coldly. "I will be calling your parents and you can attend a meeting with the principal on Monday with them to discuss why you think it's appropriate to turn school halls into a boxing ring. Now get out of here!"

John shrugged off Jessica's attempts to help, determined to get to his feet by himself and thus avoid further humiliation. He was already in trouble, and the adrenaline was pumping so he thought nothing of looking his teacher in the eye and saying, "if this was a boxing ring, I'd be assured a fair fight."

"Feris, why is it whenever there's trouble, you're slap bang in the middle of it? Now get out of here before your list of indiscretions gets any longer."

He was furious, determined to defend himself against his teacher too, his hands curling into fists with the desire to hit him as well. But Jessica laid a hand on his arm and he allowed himself to be lead away.

They left the school and walked down the road a way to the bus stop before sitting side by side on a low wall, both of them needing a minute to calm down. John spat a mouthful of blood on the floor and looked up at her apologetically. "I'm sorry, that's not the way tonight was supposed to start." He looked at himself, his fresh pressed shirt was now crumpled and some of the stitching had come loose on the shoulder.

"I thought it was brave." She nudged his shoulder with her own, gently, but it still caused a sharp intake of breath. His ribs hurt and he knew they were likely to be badly bruised. He wasn't sure, but he thought he'd heard one crack.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry." Jessica leapt up and went to lift the hem of his shirt up to see. He caught her hand and stopped her, refusing to let her know just how badly he was hurt. "We need to get you home."

John shook his head. "We're not going home, we still have my birthday present." He smiled as the bus to neighbouring Tacoma pulled up. He grabbed her hand and lead her onto the bus. He paid their fare and then they went to sit at the back.

Once seated he reached into his pocket and pulled out what he'd been guarding all day. They were a little screwed up now, although until fight they'd been perfectly pristine, but Jessica's face still lit up as he handed them over, two tickets to Bruce Springsteen for that night at the Tacoma Dome. Jessica let out a squeal and threw her arms around his neck. It hurt, but John didn't care, he was convinced he'd never be happier.


	4. Growin' Up

Part 2

Chapter 4: Growin' Up

"What do you want from life?"

John drew his gaze away from the stars that stretched out above them and planted a kiss on her cheek. "You, Jessie."

She'd borrowed her cousin's Pontiac convertible and they'd driven out to Alder Lake and had been laying in the grass beside the car with the radio on. To the east of them the lake stretched out deep and black, and beyond that Mount Rainier loomed in the distance.

She snuggled into him, her head resting on his shoulder, but looked at him seriously. "I mean it John. We only have a few months before we graduate. I want to know what you're going to do next."

John turned his attention back to the night sky. "I don't know. I want to get out of Puyallup, that's for sure. But why do I get the feeling this is more about what you want?"

"You know I've applied to a few colleges. I have the letters in the glove box."

"So?" John sat up, more interested. "Where did you get into?"

Jessica smiled at his excitement on her behalf. They'd been together for two years now, and told each other everything. But she'd purposely avoided any talk of their future. John knew this was because she could have her pick of places to go and she was worried about what that meant for them. John had applied for community college and had started working at the farm on the weekends to pay for it, but it had been a halfhearted effort. The more he thought about three further years of schooling, the less enthusiastic he was.

"I didn't look yet." She admitted.

"Well why not? I'm sure you got into everywhere." He jumped up and searched in the car. There were six pristine letters inside. John was suddenly nervous, whatever was inside would change everything, but he swallowed it down and took the letters back to Jessica, sitting beside her and watching with earnest.

"John." She paused, about to tear into the first envelope. "You know Seattle has a perfectly good nursing program. I could go there..."

John frowned and rolled his eyes. "Just open them." He urged.

The music from the car radio filled the silence while Jessica opened the first envelope. She opened the letter up and stared at it a moment in the dim light, a smile slowly spreading across her face as the news sunk in.

"So?" John said, taking the letter from her and reading it for himself. "Berkeley? You got into Berkeley?" His grin stretched from ear to ear as he leaned in and kissed her. "I told you, you could get in anywhere."

"California is a long way though." She pointed out, unsure.

"So?" John shrugged. "It's Berkeley. You can't turn it down. It's what you want. And you can finally get away from this house." He reached out and stroked her thigh gently, where he knew there was another bruise darkening there. He knew the violence had been more frequent lately, but Jessica had refused to let him tell anyone about it.

"Yeah but what about you? What about us?"

"I'll wait for you." John said firmly. "And then we can go anywhere we want. Do anything you want."

"Are you sure?"

John kissed her again. "I promise."

It was only then that Jessica seemed to get fully excited. "I need to go home and tell my parents." She said, rushing to her feet.

They got back into the car and Jessica drove back with the top down and the radio turned up loud. John sat in the passenger seat and watched his girlfriend as she belted out the song and knew he was truly happy for her, even if it did feel a little like he was being left behind.

Jessica was going to drop John off home but she had to drive passed her own house first. As they did there was the sound of a door slam so loudly that it made them jump, even over the sound of the music. Jessica stopped the car and John turned down the radio. They exchanged concerned looks and then there was a loud shout.

"Dad's drunk again." Jessica said sadly.

"Don't go home." John pleaded.

"I have to."

They were interrupted again, by another crash and a cry.

"Mom!" Jessica exclaimed. John was out of the car and racing up the drive by the time Jessica had managed to get the key out of the ignition with shaking hands.

There was another crash and then John burst through the door, with Jessica a few steps behind him. The teens froze in the doorway and took in the scene before them. Sharon Matherson was stood in the doorway between the kitchen and the lounge, a vase of flowers was smashed at her feet. But the water from the vase had left a telltale wet splatter on the wallpaper, inches from her head and Brad Matherson was stood on the other side of the sofa with his hands clenched, his face reddened with anger. Sharon was trying to look unconcerned but she was holding her arm close to her body and her shoulder appeared to be sitting awkwardly under her lilac shirt.

The two adults stared at the intrusion, and John could feel Jessica shrinking behind him under the look of fury that her father was giving them.

"Mrs Matherson are you alright?" John asked, determined to stand his ground.

"I'm fine thank you John." Sharon stuttered out. "I just dropped the vase."

John's gaze moved to the stain on the wall and raised an eyebrow, letting them both know that he wasn't buying it.

Jessica rushed over and crouched at her mother's feet as she started to pick the scattered flowers and larger pieces of vase up from the carpet, but Brad stormed over and grabbed her wrist. "Stop! It's your mother's mess. Let her clean it up."

In a few long strides, John strode over and put himself between the irate man and the two women. He could see the way his grip dug into Jessica's arm, and could smell whiskey on the man's breath.

"What are you still doing here boy? Get out of my house!"

John shook his head. "Let Jessica go."

When Brad yanked Jessica towards him, John grabbed the hand that was round her wrist and twisted the man's thumb until he broke the hold and Jessica could slip free.

Brad sent a punch into John's face, shattering his nose and causing blood to spray. John pulled his arms up to his face to protect himself from further attack and yelled, "Jessie, get your mom and run!"

Jessica grabbed her mother and ran for the front door but couldn't go through it. John was being pummelled, the blows glancing off his raised arms, trying his best to block the frenzied attack. He was being edged back until he slammed into the wall and had nowhere else to turn.

"Go!" He yelled again, trying to get a punch in of his own but failing.

"I'm not leaving you!" Jessica screamed and ran at her father, slipping free of her mother who was now crying and trying to hold her back.

A punch got through his defences and landed on John's temple, causing his vision to grey and for him to slide down the wall and land on his ass. He tried to shake out the pain and control his vision as he saw Jessica throw herself at her father and pull him back. But the large man turned and punched her in the face just as viciously as he had John, causing her to spin as she fell and land face first across the sofa.

John roared with rage as he got to his feet. He picked up the small table that the vase had been on and cracked it over the back of Brad's head, sending large splinters flying. The man turned round and ran at John, football tackling him through the doorway into the kitchen. John's body slammed into the linoleum and they slid along the smooth floor, crashing into the kitchen island, the wooden cabinets putting an abrupt halt to their motion.

Brad grabbed the slight 17 year old and slammed him against the floor, pining him there with his huge body. He grabbed John up by the shirt and then slammed him back down, making his head ring and knocking the wind out of him. Then John was picked up again and the next thing he knew he was being thrown across the kitchen island. He rolled across the Formica, scattering everything that had been on it as he attempted to stop his momentum before crashing onto his back on the other side of it.

He'd landed on something, shattered glass maybe, which dug through his thin tee shirt and bit into his skin but he didn't have time to check as Brad was striding round to get to him again. John scrabbled on the floor looking for anything to use as a weapon when he felt the sharp pain of a blade on his fingertips. A knife block had come off the work surface with him and now it's contents were scattered across the floor. He adjusted his grip and found the handle, bringing it up without thinking as Brad descended on him again.

He drove it upwards on instinct, just as Mr Matherson came down to grab him, and the sharpened blade slid cleanly into his shoulder. There was a brief moment when both man and boy looked at each other in disbelief at what had happened and the thick red blood that was now oozing down the knife and soaking John's hand. Brad roared as he wrenched himself free of the blade, and swung a fist to knock it from John's grip, but in a panic, John stabbed upwards again, catching his arm.

The second wound sent Brad even more berserk and he grabbed John's knife wielding left hand and punched the boy repeatedly. "I'm going to kill you, boy!" He snarled and John could see him his eyes it was true, so he held onto the blade with a white knuckled grip and used it again, and again, and again.

He only stopped when Matherson's body slumped on top of him, staring at what he'd done in horror. The kitchen was silent for a second and then there was a horrific wail as Jessica's mom raced forward and sank to her knees beside her husband, pulling him into her lap. This gave the chance for John to scramble out from under him, the knife still firm in his petrified grip, his hands slipping on the bloodied Lino as he tried to extricate himself from the gory scene.

The slap that Mrs Matherson gave him round his already battered face caused him to drop the knife, and brought tears to his eyes in the way that killing a man hadn't. "You killed him!" The woman screamed, sobbing over the body of her dead husband. "Get out of here! Murderer!"

John stared with blurred vision at the blood-soaked room, trying to make sense of what just happened, when a hand rested on his shoulder and a gentle but urgent voice whispered in his ear, "John! We have to go!"


	5. Born To Run

Authors Note: I want to thank McMoni and my other reviewer for their kind words of encouragement. I kind of knew when I started this that anything with Jessica in would put people off, especially as I myself am a Careeser at heart. But I'm really enjoying writing this and so carrying on regardless. If you are also enjoying this, let me know.

* * *

Part 2

Chapter 5: Born To Run

"John! We have to go!"

He allowed Jessica to pull him to wobbling feet and together they ran out of the house with her mother's wailing in their ears. Jessica lead him to the car and shoved him inside before getting in herself and starting it. The tyres screeched as she peeled away and as they drove off, the night air was cut through with the sound of sirens.

* * *

John had no idea how long they drove for in silence, but as the sky was starting to lighten, Jessica pulled the car over and he was finally able to wrench his gaze from his blood-soaked hands.

"Where are we?" He asked tiredly, looking around. It was cold in the pre-dawn air, but he'd barely felt it. They'd come off the highway and were in the parking lot of a run down motel. The neon sign flickered overhead, but Jessica had pulled round to the back so that the car couldn't be spotted from the road.

"Oregon." Jessica shrugged. "How much money you got?"

"Not enough for a room." John said grimly. He went to fish what little he did have out of his jeans pocket, but realised just in time that he'd result in getting it covered in blood.

"I have a little." Jessica said. "We need to get you cleaned up. Wait here." She hopped out of the car and strode to reception with a grim expression on her face.

She was back in a few minutes, waving a key at him. John noticed her cheek was coming up with a black eye. "Told the manager my husband was looking for me. He gave us a discount."

John just nodded. He stumbled as he got out of the car, he hurt all over and Jessica had to catch him and steady him as they walked into the tiny room. The room was dingy and someone had made only a cursory attempt at cleanliness, but the teens were so relieved that they didn't care. John sat down on the lumpy bed and Jessica went into the adjoining bathroom and started filling the bathtub with hot water.

When the tub was full and steam was billowing out of the bathroom she came back in to find John hadn't moved. He looked up and almost broke down when he looked into her rapidly bruising face. "I'm so sorry." He said hoarsely.

"John, he was going to kill you." She said, tears spilling now that she no longer had to hold herself together. "One day he would have killed Mom, or me." She knelt in front of him and rested her hands on his knees.

"I should explain what happened, turn myself in. I can't be caught here with you." He said, suddenly bolting to his feet, but she put a hand on his chest and sat him back down again.

"No, it will be us against my mom. And you'll end up in jail." Jessica said emphatically. "The cops all know my dad and the last time they came to the house they said it was a family matter and not for them to deal with."

"Then I'll hitchhike. I'll go down to Mexico. You should go home."

"I'll drive you. But first we need sleep." Jessica said. He looked about to protest but she gave him a look and he thought better of it. "Get in the bath." She said gently.

John hauled himself to his feet and trudged into the bathroom. He looked down at his hands, they were soaked in blood that had covered his hands and then run down his arms to his elbows. He scrubbed the worst off and then pulled his tee shirt over his head, using it to wipe the steam from the mirror. Even with most of the blood off his hands he painted a gory picture. Bruising was coming up over his jaw and across his broken nose as well as across his ribs. Blood from his nose had dripped down, over his mouth and all the way down his chin and neck, the last rivulets marring his chest. A quick glance at his back in the mirror showed him that whatever he'd landed on when he'd fallen off the kitchen counter had cut up his back in about half a dozen places. He gripped the sink and took a deep breath, blood was welling up again and draining into the sink, now that his hands were clean it had revealed a deep gash across his fingers.

Jessica appeared in the doorway behind him, and he caught her gaze in the mirror. "I look like something out of a horror movie Jessie. How did we not get pulled over by the cops?"

"Oh John!" Jessica cried, looking at the devastation that had been wrecked on his body. Her turned to face her with his arms out and she stepped forward into his embrace. He winced when their bodies touched but refused to let go. Jessica cried on John's shoulder and he held her close, wishing he could hold onto her forever. Since she'd pulled him from the house he'd felt numb. The horror of what he'd seen, of what he'd done was not sinking in, even the pain of his injuries was not as bad as he knew it should be. The only thing he found he could care about was Jessica.

Eventually it was her that released her hold, wiping the tears from her face. "Get in the bath. I'll be back in a few minutes." She promised and slipped out of the door. John finished stripping off, put his blood stained tee shirt in the sink to soak and then gingerly got into the bath. He lay back gently, mindful of his cuts and watched absentmindedly as the water turned pink.

The sound of the door opening again startled him awake. He had no idea how long he'd been asleep but it couldn't have been long as the water was still hot. Jessica came back into the bathroom and she had a paper bag full of provisions. She sat the bag by the door and got out some tweezers.

"I think there's some glass still in your back." She explained. "Lean forward."

John did as he was told. The warm water had opened up the cuts and made them bleed more but it had also done a good job of cleaning them out. A few were deep, but nothing seemed to require stitches, at least to their untrained eyes. While Jessica sat on the edge of the tub picking fragments of glass from John's skin, John washed the rest of the blood from his face and neck and scrubbed it from under his nails. When they were both done, and he'd washed his hair, he sat on the floor with a towel wrapped around his waist while Jessica taped bandages to his back and wrapped his gashed hand.

All the adrenaline from the fight had long since left him and he was now finding it hard to keep his eyes open. Jessica lead him to bed and within minutes he was in a pain filled sleep. It was some time later that Jessica slipped into bed with him and cuddled up to his side. Having her there with him, eased his slumber.

* * *

It was Jessica that woke with a start and a stifled scream. John's instant thought was that her dad had found them and he bolted upright ready to fight. But when he saw where they were and that he had a trembling Jessica tucked into his battered embrace, he remembered just what had happened the night before. Suddenly he felt sick and had to rush to the toilet, getting there just in time to throw up.

He was spitting the last of his stomach contents in the bowl when Jessica crouched down beside him and offered him a wet cloth for his face. "Are you okay? It could be concussion." She studied him carefully.

"Yeah, or it could be that I've just committed my first murder." He mumbled bitterly.

"Don't think like that. You had no choice."

"Why don't you hate me for what I've done?" John asked sadly.

"Because I think you saved my life last night. And my mom's, even if she's too stubborn to see it." She sighed. "I don't think I could sleep anymore, do you?"

John shook his head. "We should get going." Light was streaming in through the tatty curtains but it was clear it was getting late in the day. He saw his tee shirt hung up on the radiator to dry and pulled it on. Despite Jessica's efforts to clean it, it still had a large stain on the front, and holes torn in the back. The fact that it was still wet seemed inconsequential, it was ruined.

"Are you hungry? There's a diner I saw last night just down the road."

John looked down at himself, Jessica followed his gaze and realised what he was thinking, there was no way he could be let into a diner without someone calling the authorities. "I could get take out. Eat it back here."

"How much money do we have?" John asked.

Jessica's face fell as she counted it up in her head. By the look on her face it was clear the answer was not enough. "We'll drive to the next town. I'll call my cousin and he can wire us some money."

John shook his head. "Jessie, we can't trust anyone..."

"No. Don't worry, he'll be fine. He knows what dad was like, he'll understand. Come on. We should get going before the bank closes."

John wanted to protest further but he could see no other way. Stealing the money they needed crossed his mind but he put that right out of his thoughts immediately. This was his problem, and he shouldn't be taking advantage of strangers to fix it. Besides, he'd never stolen anything in his life, and he was sure he'd get caught.

* * *

They drove into town and John waited in the car while Jessica used the phone outside the 7/11. She was on the phone a while and when she came back she had two polystyrene cups of bad instant coffee with her. She got in the car and handed him one.

"He said to wait here and he'll call when it's done." Jessica explained as she looked through the windscreen at the payphone, willing it to ring. They sipped their coffee in silence, both still too shell shocked from the night before to make conversation. John knew that it would take a while to get the money transferred but the longer they sat there, the more nervous he got. And then they heard the sirens.

"I thought you said you could trust him!" John hissed, looking round in a panic.

"I'm sorry." Jessica exclaimed. She started up the car and pulled out of the parking lot at speed. "I was sure... I was sure..." she whispered over and over. The back end of the car fishtailed as she struggled to keep it under control in her haste. Although they couldn't see the police cars yet, the sirens were getting closer. It was clear they were being pursued.

"Jessie! Jessie!" John had to say her name twice to get her attention.

"Yes?" They had reached the outskirts of the small town and were now back on the highway, surrounded by forest.

"We can't do this." John said.

"We can. I can... I have to..." she said in a frenzy.

"No." John said firmly and calmly. "And you shouldn't have to. Let me out here."

"No!" Tears were welling up and she wiped them hastily away.

"Jessie! What about Berkeley? Nursing? You can't throw your whole life away for me."

"No, I..." But she slowed down and pulled up on the roadside, knowing his to be right. "What are you going to do?" She looked at him with a mournful expression that almost broke John's heart.

"Don't worry. I'll be alright." John promised, managing a smile.

"I love you." Jessica sobbed.

"I love you too." John said, wiping a tear from her cheek before kissing her passionately. He closed his eyes and sank into the kiss. He found it hard to pull away but the sirens were getting closer, so he broke it off.

"Go!" He urged, getting out of the car. He ran down the bank into the trees. He watched from the undergrowth as Jessica pulled away, driving more sensibly now. He watched her disappear and then less than a minute later a pair of police cars zipped by after her. John watched them go and listened as the sound of them faded, leaving him in the quiet of the forest. Suddenly he was overwhelmed with loneliness, and the enormity of what he had to do next. For the first time in his life, he was truly all alone.


	6. Drive All Night

Part 2

Chapter 6: Drive All Night

"Thanks Mister. You can just let me out here."

"You sure boy?" The man asked, fixing him with a stare that made John's blood turn cold. "Ain't nobody else gonna pick you up looking the way you do. I could take you clear down to Bakersfield."

John shook his head. "That's alright Sir. Besides, I ain't got nothin' to pay you with anyway."

"I wouldn't need payment. Just a little company is all." The trucker said, reaching across the cab and resting a hand on his knee.

The touch made John jerk back and grab the door handle. He'd known from the second the middle aged man had pulled over that there was something not right about him, but after five hours of standing with his thumb out on the highway it had gotten dark and cold and he'd made the decision to chance the creepy ride over the likelihood of hypothermia. He'd regretted it from the moment he'd gotten in, and by now he was just about ready to jump out of a moving vehicle.

He fixed the overweight, greasy man with his best angry stare, and something about him must have said he was still dangerous despite his obvious injuries, because the man pulled over.

"Go on then." The man sneered. "You ungrateful little bastard."

John got out and slammed the door shut, watching the man drive away in the misty rain. He breathed a sigh of relief, but it was short lived. It was now the middle of the night and within seconds his thin ruined tee shirt and jeans were soaked through. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and started walking, knowing it was the only way to stave off the chill that had begun to seep into his bones.

* * *

He lost track of how far he walked. He had no watch on and in the dark it was difficult to judge time, especially when it took all his concentration to put one foot in front of the other. But eventually there was the neon sign of a rest-stop up ahead. As he got closer he saw that it was a gas station with a little all-night diner attached. He checked in his pocket, he only had a dollar and fifty cents. He knew he should save it but he knew it would be enough for a cup of coffee and unless he got out of the cold rain he would become seriously ill.

He pushed open the diner door and was hit with warmth and the smell of coffee. It was almost empty, one lone bored-looking waitress flicked through a magazine behind the counter, while two truckers conversed loudly at a booth and another man in a flannel shirt and cowboy boots sat on a bar stool.

The cowboy had been staring into his coffee mug but looked up and watched as John shuffled self-consciously up to the bar.

John dug into his pocket and pulled out his dollar-fifty. "Can I get a coffee please, Ma'am." He asked.

The waitress looked down her nose at him but poured him a mug of coffee and slid it over to him without saying anything.

"Get him a slice of that blueberry pie too." The cowboy told the waitress.

"Oh no, Sir. Coffee's fine." John protested.

"Nonsense. There ain't near enough meat on your bones. And don't worry about paying for it. If I let you walk outta here lookin' like that, I'd be worrying' about yer all night."

John narrowed his eyes and studied the man suspiciously. He looked about forty, tanned and with a lined face from too many hours out in the sun. The sleeves on his shirt were rolled up to the elbows and both his wrists had nasty thick scars wrapped around them. But he didn't set the hackles standing on the back of John's neck like the last guy had. In fact, he'd just gone straight back to staring at his coffee as though John wasn't there.

The pie materialised in front of him and he suddenly found himself ravenous, it had been more than a day since he'd eaten anything at all. He delved into the warm pie with his fork and couldn't help but let out a groan of pleasure as the flavour exploded on his tongue.

"Rough few days huh kid?" The cowboy muttered.

John froze, really unsure as to what to say. The last thing he wanted was conversation. "You could say that." He said cautiously.

"Someone made a mess o' that pretty young face a yours. You give as good as you got?"

John gulped. "Sort of." Realising this conversation could go horribly wrong he took a leap of faith, "Was my stepdad." He lied. "Now I'm just trying to get as far away from him as I can."

The man looked him up and down, his thin white tee shirt clung to him and made the bandages and bruising underneath obvious. It was clear that not only had he been in a fight, he'd taken an absolute pounding.

"You think he might be lookin' to finish the job?" The cowboy asked. "What's his name? Maybe I can help you."

John shook his head. "I'm not looking for help Sir. Just somewhere to start over."

The cowboy frowned, "and where might you be looking to do that?"

"I have a friend in San Diego." He lied again, thinking that crossing the boarder into Mexico might be suspicious.

"Well, I can take you as far as Salinas."

John looked at him suspiciously, "I can't pay you." He warned. "And I'll kill you if you touch me."

He worried that it had been the wrong thing to say, but the words had come out before he'd had chance to think about it. But the cowboy just sighed, "Oh boy, you really have had a rough couple a days. Look, I'm drivin' down to Salinas whether you're in my car or not. If you wanna join me then you're more than welcome but it's entirely up to you."

John gulped, not sure he was ready to take another risk. He was jumpy, senses on high alert and was unwilling to trust even the friendliest of faces.

"Look, you can wait here for some nice safe schoolmistress type to stop by, but I doubt they'll want to pick up a boy who looks like he's gone ten rounds with a tiger. Or you could turn around and start walking back to wherever you came from. But I can almost guarantee you won't get a better offer than this tonight."

"Thank you." He said quietly.

"Okay," the man smiled and stuck out his hand, "in that case, I'm Benjamin, it's a pleasure to meet ya."

"I'm John."

* * *

John stared out of the passenger window and watched the rain which had gotten heavier. He had his arms wrapped around himself protectively, although the heat had been cranked up to full in the car, it was taking him some time to warm up.

He knew he was being sullen, and hardly the best passenger, but every time Benjamin asked him a question he replied with a single syllable answer, and quite often a lie.

"Did you get enough to eat?"

"Yes."

"Are you still cold?"

"No."

"You wanna tell me where you're from?"

"No."

So instead of talking, Benjamin put the radio on and they sat and listened instead. John's heart sank as the DJ announced that the next song was going to be a Springsteen classic, over the opening bars of a familiar song. It took him back immediately to playing basketball in his yard with his mother looking on, the concert which had been one of the best experiences of his young life and the many nights he and Jessica had just laid in the dark and listened to their favourite songs.

He let out a sigh and hastily wiped a tear from his eyes hoping that Benjamin hadn't seen it, but he had.

"I like this song, but you can change it if you like." Benjamin said.

In the background Springsteen sang, "I'm ten years burning down the road, Nowhere to run ain't got nowhere to go,"

"You a vet?" John asked instead, looking for a way to change the subject.

Benjamin smiled, "What gave it away?"

John pointed to the man's wrists, resting gently on the steering wheel. "Your scars. They look like rope marks. Were you a POW?"

"For two years." Benjamin supplied.

"My dad was army. Four tours. He was a hero."

Benjamin noted the past tense and didn't push for further information.

"Came back home, and died a hero here too." He continued. He didn't know where all this was coming from, he never talked about his dad, but now, outside of Puyallup, where no one knew his famous father, it seemed important. "It's a lot to live up to, being the son to a hero." He admitted.

Benjamin kept his eyes on the road. "It's not easy." He agreed. "But in everything, you have a choice. Keep making the right choices and you won't go far wrong." He paused, "This mess with your step dad, have you made the right choices?"

John looked at him and replied honestly, "I have no idea."

* * *

John managed to get a few hours sleep while Benjamin drove. He woke him late morning and treated him to a pancake breakfast that he wolfed down guiltily. While Benjamin paid the bill, John used the payphone outside to call Jessica's house but the phone just rang without being picked up. He thought about calling his mom instead, but realised he had no idea what to say.

They reached Salinas just after mid-day and Benjamin pulled up at the bus station. John got out and came round to Benjamin's open window.

"Thanks so much for the ride Sir." John said. "If you give me your address I can send some money for the food."

Just then a passerby gave John a strange look but then smiled when she saw who he was talking too, "Good afternoon Officer!" She waved at him.

"Officer?" John's jaw fell open. "You're a cop?"

Benjamin smiled as he watched the teen try to recover his composure. He shrugged, "Just helping someone in need out." He gave John a pointed look, and John knew the man had guessed more than he'd been told.

"Look, seeing as you offered to pay it back, and I know that you will, let me give you enough to get down to San Diego, or wherever it is you're going." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a hundred dollars. He then started to unbutton his flannel shirt, leaving him in just a black tee shirt underneath. He handed the shirt out of the window with the money. "You can mail the shirt back with the money."

In shock, John just stared at it. "Sir, I can't. You've already helped me out so much."

"Take it. There's a business card in the pocket with a mailing address and a number. You need me, you can call."

"Thank you." John took the proffered note and the shirt reverently and slipped it on. It was warm and fit him perfectly.

"Take care of yourself kid." Benjamin said as he drove away.

John watched the car go, lost in thought for a moment before buttoning up his shirt and heading to the ticket office. "One way ticket to Tijuana please."


	7. The Long Goodbye

Authors Note: Big thanks to McMoni, Souhashi27 and my guest reviewer for their support for this little story. I promise more angst to come but also made sure that John had a few years of fun in between because it breaks my heart to think he never got the opportunity to really live on his own terms, so here it is.

BTW, if you're struggling to picture John as a young tanned beach bum then watch the beginning of The Thin Red Line or at least check IMDB for pictures. Actually, just watch all of The Thin Red Line, as Jim Caviezel is adorable in it.

* * *

Part 3

Chapter 7: The Long Goodbye

It was another perfect day. Warm with a light breeze, not a cloud in the sky. The sea was calm and a school of dolphins leapt out of the water, playing around the small yacht as it cut through the rolling waves on its way back to the shore.

John sat at the prow of the boat, leaning on the guard rails and dangling his bare feet over the side so they got splashed with spray. He combed his fingers through his salt-encrusted hair and enjoyed the feeling of the sun on his tanned skin. It was days like this that he loved his job but he had been away for a long time and he was looking forward to getting back to dry land. He had a little money saved up again now, and it was time for a new adventure. Six months ago he'd found himself hiking the Inca trail to the ruins at Machu Picchu, maybe this time he'd go all the way down to Patagonia.

"Hey, Juan. You got plans for tonight?" His crew mate called over the noise of their forward surge. John smiled, he didn't, but it sounded like he was about to.

Enrique was a few years older than he was and they'd been working together on and off for five years now. When John had first arrived on the coastal city, skinny and hungry and in need of work, Enrique had taken pity on him and taken him on as a modern day cabin boy, having him scrub decks and polish chrome in exchange for little more than a hot meal and a bed.

Enrique himself had come to Cancun at a teen, eager to use his English language skills and make his fortune amongst the rich who were flocking to the up-and-coming tourist centre. They'd struck up a friendship and he had frequently tracked John down whenever he had more work than he could manage by himself. The business moved forward, and together they went from scrubbing decks to shuttling yachts around the world so their rich owners could play in all the most luxurious resorts. They'd just come back from a trip from the Great Barrier Reef and while the diving in Cancun was exceptional, the experience of diving on the Australian coast still had him grinning. He still couldn't really believe that this had become his life.

"My friend has this condo, he's having a party tonight. There'll be lots of señoritas." Enrique promised.

John smiled, getting up to help fuel the sails as the approached the marina. He glanced down at himself and the ragged salt stained shorts he was wearing. "I don't know, Enrique, I'm in my last clean clothes."

"Wear them! All the girls will be hoping to get you out of them anyway." Enrique said with a mischievous glint in his eye.

John smiled and was going to remind Enrique of the last time they were at one of his friend's condo parties. The cops had been called and John and Enrique had drunkenly hidden in the neighbours bushes with a pair of girls who waitressed at the Hilton. But as he opened his mouth he caught sight of someone on the dock and he was made speechless.

She was dressed in a white blouse and Daisy Duke shorts and her blonde hair was blowing gently in the breeze. John sighed, she was just as beautiful as he'd always remembered.

Enrique saw the effect that the mysterious girl had on his friend and laughed. "Looks like you might have your own plans tonight." He observed. "But if you want to bring her..."

John wasn't listening, he was too busy staring at the love of his life. They pulled the yacht into the berth and John leapt onto the dock, leaving Enrique to moor the expensive boat by himself.

"Jessie?" John said with disbelief as she came down the wooden walkway to him. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?" Noticing that Enrique was eavesdropping far from subtly, he took her hand and walked away slowly, heading for the beach.

Jessica smiled and brushed her hair behind her ear shyly. "From the postcard you sent. You never send them anymore." She said sadly. "I had no idea if you'd still be here, but I got here three days ago and asked around."

"I stopped sending them because I had no idea if you still wanted to receive them. It's been almost six years Jess."

"I know." She said, her eyes welling up.

"Jessica, what's wrong? Why'd you come down here now after all this time?"

"John, it's your mom. She's sick."

"What?" He stopped in his tracks. "She can't be, I called her last month, she said she was fine." The first thing John had done when he'd made it into Mexico all those years ago was call his mother and tell her what had happened, although by then Jessica had already gone home and explained it all to her in her own words. Since then, John had taken great pleasure and a considerable amount of his earnings, phoning his mother regularly and telling her all about his travels. The last time he'd called had been from Australia before they'd sailed back. She'd had a bit of a cough but she'd said it was nothing.

"John," they had made it as far as the beach and Jessica sat down on the pristine white sand, pulling him down to sit with her. She waited until he was sat cross-legged beside her before she continued. "She's got cancer, she's been having treatment for the past year, but it's spread."

"Why didn't she say anything?" John asked, shocked. He could feel a prickling at the back of his eyes that he tried to ignore.

"She didn't want to worry you. And she doesn't want you rushing home and putting yourself at risk. But she's dying John. She's dying and I thought you should know." Jessica was crying now, burying her head in her hands. He pulled her into a hug and held her close, feeling her hot tears hit his bare chest. They were still in paradise, small waves lapping at the shore, parakeets chirping in the palm trees, but it all suddenly felt flat and unreal. How could such a beautiful place be a backdrop to such awful news?

"I'm sorry. I know you can't go back, but I didn't know what to do." Jessica whispered, head resting on his shoulder.

"No, you did the right thing." John assured her, the way forward becoming clear, "Now I have to do the right thing."

* * *

Enrique had made a halfhearted attempt to get him to change his mind. But John had known as soon as Jessica had told him, what he had to do. He'd gone to his friend to explain what had happened and to get his pay from the last job and then he'd used it to book the first two available seats on a flight to Seattle, using the forged passport he'd acquired some years back so he could travel.

They'd flown in awkward, almost-silence. They'd tried to start a conversation, John had asked about Jessica's nursing, Jessica had asked about John's travels, but each time the words fell under the weight of what was about to happen. Instead they settled for holding hands in quiet contemplation, and if John had ordered too much whiskey from the drinks trolley then Jessica didn't comment on it.

Seattle was cold and raining, and as they waited for the bus take them from the airport to Tacoma, John pulled his thin jacket tighter and thought about how the weather fit his mood. He had almost no belongings, just a frayed backpack of clothes that had seen the world with him, so he declined Jessica's offer to go to her small Tacoma apartment first and instead they went straight to the hospital.

The hospital at Tacoma was the same one that Jessica was working at. As she lead the way she received smiles and well wishes from other members of staff, one who asked after 'Mrs Feris'. John realised that Jessica must have visited his mother regularly enough for them to know the connection. He wandered along, one step behind her. His feet felt heavy with dread but he distracted himself by watching Jessica interact with people. During their years apart she had turned from an unsure teenager into a confident young woman with an important job. John had spent the last six years living completely free, taking every opportunity that was offered and indulging in the sort of spontaneity that only those who are living without ties and responsibilities can, but Jessica had been saving lives and building a future for herself. John had thought he was living life to its fullest, but now he wondered if there wasn't something more he could have done with the years he'd had so far. Especially as he knew it was all about to be taken away from him.

Jessica lead him into a ward and then opened a door into a small side room, stepping back to allow him in first. Suddenly, he stopped moving and didn't want to go any further. It took all of his strength to walk through the door. Jessica squeezed his shoulder in comfort as he did and then stepped out to give them privacy.

The room was small, only big enough for the bed and a chair beside it, hospital equipment crammed in the narrow space on the other side. A large window ran down the length of the room. Normally it would fill the room with warm sunlight, but now it just framed a scene of heavy rain and thunderclouds.

"Mom?" He said hesitantly. The woman in the bed was so frail that he barely recognised her. She seemed to have shrunken into it, always a small woman, now she was tiny. Her thin and sallow skin was stretched over her sunken face, making her prominent cheekbones even sharper than usual. Her head was wrapped in a scarf, but John noticed she had no eyebrows or eyelashes either, the result of her gruelling treatments.

"John?" The little woman in the bed croaked in disbelief. "John! What are you doing here?"

"Jessica found me. Why didn't you tell me you were sick? I would have come right away." He leaned over the bed and gave her a gentle hug, afraid that he was going to break her.

"I didn't want you to get in trouble Johnny." She said. "I didn't want you throwing your life away on me."

"I don't care Mom. I need to be here." He pulled up the chair and sat beside her, holding her frail hand. His own hand was tanned and calloused from working on the yachts and it engulfed hers.

"You look good John. I can't believe how handsome my boy has become. Those nurses will be falling over themselves for you." She joked. It was through her smile that John could see the woman he knew as his mother.

He shrugged at the compliment. He knew that girls found him attractive and had used it often to his advantage, but it was still embarrassing for it to be pointed out.

"You know Jessica still loves you don't you?" She said. "There was another boy for a while but she never really let you go."

"She should." John said sadly. "I can't be what she needs me to be."

"And what is that John?" His mother gave him an exaggerated frown. "Because when she really needed you, you were there for her and it could have cost you everything." The words could have sounded bitter, after all John had come close to death that night and had been forced to leave his mother all alone in the world, but rather than angry she sounded resigned.

"I'm sorry Mom."

"Don't be. I raised a Feris boy, you're just like your father."

John hung his head so that she couldn't see the emotion in his eyes. "I'm not. Dad was a hero."

"What do you think you are to that girl out there?" She asked indicating the door, where they could see Jessica through the glass panel talking at the nurses station. "Conor would do whatever it took, no matter the cost. I should expect no less from his son."

John nodded and wiped at his eyes. "I'll try not to disappoint you Mom."

"You could never disappoint me son. Now," She said more brightly, "tell me all about your latest adventures. Are you still hanging around with that other boy... what was his name, Rico?"

"Enrique, Mom." He smiled. "And yeah. I've got some photos in my bag, do you wanna see?"


	8. The Price You Pay

Part 3:

Chapter 8: The Price You Pay

John woke when Jessica placed her hand gently on his shoulder. He and his mom had carried on talking long into the night, until at some point they had both fallen asleep. He was slouched in the hard plastic chair, head lolled to one side and still holding his mother's hand. He sat up a little straighter as he became more alert, and then he looked down at his mother, her hand had gone cold.

"Mom?" He said leaning forward and peering at her face. He squeezed her hand to try and get a reaction but it was stiff and unresponsive. "Mom?" He said again, pleading, panic starting to set in.

Jessica went to her side and searched for a pulse but after a couple of attempts stopped trying and shook her head at John sadly. "She's gone."

John ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath to steady himself, feeling that numbness that he had become familiar with soaking back into his soul.

"John," Jessica ventured carefully, "the cops are outside. Someone must have told them that you're here."

John just sat, staring at him Mom, he still hadn't let go of her hand and he stroked a finger over her wedding ring, now too large for her skinny fingers.

"John, I have to get you out of here." Jessica urged.

"No." He said hoarsely. "It's okay." He pushed his chair back with his legs and stood. Placing his mother's hand gently on her lap, he kissed her forehead and then straightened and squared his shoulders, striding out of the room just as two police officers entered the hallway outside.

"Mr Feris?" One of them asked, placing his hand protectively on his sidearm, as though he expected him to be dangerous. Of course he does, John chided himself, you're a murderer.

For a fraction of a second, John wondered if he could slip passed and outrun them, but he ignored the fleeting thought. After all he knew how this would end when he'd decided to come. "Yes, I'm John Feris."

"Mr Feris. You're going to have to come with us. You're being arrested for the murder of Brad Matherson."

* * *

"Mr Feris," The Judge looked down at him with a stern but not unkind expression. Still, John shuffled nervously under the man's gaze. He was in the middle of an almost empty courtroom, dressed in a cheap, ill-fitting suit that Jessica had hurriedly bought him for his arraignment. Behind him was his state appointed defence lawyer and the District Attorney watching the proceedings carefully.

"I have considered all the evidence as well as your account that you have just given me. It appears that while you pled guilty to taking the life of Bradley Matherson, there were extenuating circumstances and that a case could have been made for self defence were it not for the level of violence used. Your attorney has supplied me with the statement from your girlfriend Jessica, as well as a host of other statements by officers regarding previous incidents at the address. Along with recordings of 911 calls and hospital reports for both Jessica and her mother, it appears that Brad Matherson was indeed a danger to his family. There's also a note of a call from an Officer Benjamin Jezyk from Salinas, California who was enquiring about a young homeless boy he'd met named John, who he'd stated to have been suffering some pretty serious defensive injuries.

"In short, young man, in light of your honesty and taking into account the vast number of people who stated that Matherson appeared to be a danger to his family, I am going to offer you a choice. You can serve a three year prison sentence for Voluntary Manslaughter or you can serve your country. If you accept my very generous offer, Lieutenant Carlton is outside to transport you to Fort Lewis. A new intake of recruits started training yesterday, I doubt you've missed much so far."

John smiled at the irony. He'd tried so hard to not follow in his father's footsteps so as to not to upset his mother, and now his mother was gone and he was being taken down that path anyway. He wasn't sure if he believed in fate, but if anything was going to convince him it was this. "Thank you, Your Honour." John said solemnly. The judge had called it a choice, but really it had been no choice at all.

* * *

72 hours previously, he'd woken up as the Caribbean sun had warmed his skin and the only thing he had to think about was whether he'd work another gig or go travelling again first. In the space between, he'd lost his mother, he'd lost the carefree life he'd built for himself, and he was now stood in a muddy field with his fingers laced and braced on his knee as he boosted his teammates over a ten foot wall.

He was exhausted, he hadn't slept well and they'd been up since dawn. They'd started the day with a five mile run and then moved on to a gruelling assault course. John had always considered himself quite physically fit, but he'd never really run anywhere outside of a basketball court. The assault course he'd done better at, but their instructor hadn't been impressed with some of his teammates efforts, so they were all doing it all again. As one of the tallest, it had fallen to him to boost everyone else over the taller walls.

He helped the last man up, a Seattle boy called Neilson, who then lay perched on the top of the wall and held out his hand. John took a run at the wall and brought his boot up against it to springboard up, he reached and clasped the other recruit's hand but they were mud-slicked and his fingers slid from the other man's grasp. John fell back and landed heavily on his back on the churned up ground.

He lay there momentarily and took a deep breath, his body aching and lacking the strength to get up. But then there was a shout from the sidelines, "Hey Feris! You ain't here to catch up on your beauty sleep. Get your ass up that fucking wall or you'll all be doing it again!"

John glared daggers at the sergeant who was taking them through the drill, but hauled himself to his feet. He wiped his hands on the leg of his fatigues and ran at the wall again. This time he got a better grip and scrambled up the wall as Neilson hauled him up. "Hey," the younger recruit hissed as they both swung themselves over the wall to land on the other side. "You screw this up and we'll screw you over old man."

The old man comment was ridiculous, John thought, he was only twenty-four but as most of the others were straight out of high school, it made him the oldest. Tired and emotionally drained, it made him furious and he had to stop himself from throwing a punch. Instead he attacked the A frame, launching himself into the cargo netting and racing to the top, determined to prove the little prick wrong.

* * *

"Hey Private, who you making trouble for today?"

"Trouble Sir? What do you mean?" John stood to attention in the Captain's office. He knew why he'd been dragged down there again, but he wanted to hear him say it.

"Well, isn't that what you like to do? Turn left when they say go right? Why are you such a troublemaker Feris?" The Captain studied the man with a weary but difficult to read expression.

He was going to make him explain himself, John realised. It was a battle of wills and he was going to be on the losing end. He had to tread carefully. "I disagreed with some of the men about the definition of hazing Sir."

It had been a little more than that, a few of the recruits had started picking on a skinny boy who had been falling behind in their training. A few of the boy's errors had caused the whole company to have to repeat exercises and it was quickly resented. The taunts and snide comments had quickly given way to physical abuse and John had felt the need to step in as he always had. Bully the bullies. It had not ended well.

"And did you bring this concern to your Sergeant?"

"I did Sir. I disagreed with his definition too."

The Captain took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose with a long suffering sigh. "I appreciate that joining the army was not your plan. And that despite that you have shown yourself to be an exemplary recruit. But I warn you now that physical fitness and high test scores will not save you unless you learn to stay inside the lines. I'd like to keep you in my company, I think you'll make a great soldier and probably one day a great Sergeant, but you're not there now and it's not your job to dole out justice."

"They broke Farley's arm Sir."

The Captain sighed again. "I know. But why don't you let me deal with everyone involved and stop trying to make so many enemies."

"If you have enemies, you've stood up for something." John said.

The Captain raised an eyebrow, "Churchill?"

"I don't know Sir, it's something my dad used to say."

The Captain smiled. "Dismissed Private."

John snapped a salute and left.

* * *

"How you doing Jessie?"

"I'm fine John. Not heard from you for a while. How are you?" Her voice came through slightly faint over the bad line.

John was sat on the floor in the corridor outside his barracks, the payphone cable just about stretching so he could get the receiver to his ear. "I'm alright. I just called to say goodbye. We're being deployed tomorrow."

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Jessica?"

"I'm here. I'm worried about you. Where are you going?"

"Bosnia." He picked absentmindedly at a thread on the hem of his pants. "I'm not sure how long for."

"Promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise."

"Your mom and dad would be proud you know."

John smiled. "Take care of yourself Jessie. I love you."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, long enough for John's heart to sink. "I have to go. My break is over." And then, "Hey John, I love you too."


	9. Epilogue: Reason To Believe

Epilogue: Reason To Believe

It was weird, coming back after so long. He paid the taxi and then made his way carefully up the steps. He'd not been back to the house since that fateful night fifteen years ago, and it had remained derelict since his mother had died. Now the yard was overgrown, the paint was peeling off and there was rot in the veranda. He'd meant to come back and sort it out but he'd never found the time.

He didn't even have a key anymore, but he knew that the lock had been broken on his bedroom window and doubted his mother had ever gotten round to fixing it. So, in full military uniform, he took a running jump at the flagpole and hauled himself to jimmy the window and climb inside, just like he had as a teenager.

He stood inside his room and looked around. It was exactly as he remembered it, although everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. He picked up the photo of his mom and Dad and him from the bedside table and sat down on his bed to stare at it. The sun had bleached the colour of it and damp had found it's way into the frame like it had the rest of the house. Carefully, he undid the back and slid the photo out, placing it safely in the breast pocket of his tunic.

He continued to look round his room and then remembered something else he wanted to keep. He reached under his bed and found an old cardboard box and slid it out, hefting it up to the bed with him. Inside was his cassette tape collection. He glanced through the titles, smiling at his teenaged musical tastes, some good, some not so much, until he found what he was looking for. He pulled it out and studied it, the track titles written in a neat hand, the cassette recording that Jessica had made for him all that time ago.

The cassette case was empty though, but a quick search found his old Walkman in his bedside drawer and the tape was already inside. Of course it was, he grinned, how often had he played it, over and over until he was sure it would wear out? He put the headphones over his ears and pressed play and miraculously the batteries still worked. It had been abandoned in the middle of a song, and the quality was crackling and aged now, but the words came through as clear as the first day he'd heard them.

"Well, we made a promise we swore we'd always remember, No retreat, baby, no surrender,"

Fate again? He wondered, that it would be just that part of that song, frozen in time for fifteen years. It reminded him of something else that had been frozen in time, for just that long.

He pulled his new cell phone from his pocket and scrolled through his contacts list to a number he hadn't used in a long time. He had no idea if it would still work, but he knew he would forever kick himself if he didn't try. He pressed the button and listened to it ring with bated breath.

When the phone was answered, he felt his nerves increase tenfold as he recognised the voice on the other end of the line. "Hello?"

"Hey, Jessie. It's John. I know it's been a long time, but I'm in town and I was wondering if I could take you to dinner."

His heart leapt with relief when she said yes.

* * *

Authors Note: I want to thank everybody who has taken the time to read my little journey back into John's past. I really enjoyed writing it and appreciate all the feedback.

I've tried hard to make the timeline work but apologise that John's little driving story from Season 4 wouldn't quite fit, not without making John four years older than Mr Caviezel. Ultimately, I felt it more important to get the part about his dad dying right after Vietnam right and having him this age set the rest of the story better.

I know most of you won't be Bruce Springsteen fans and I hope it didn't matter that you weren't, but one of the writers of the show clearly is, and if you check out the lyrics for Born In The USA you'll see what I mean.

Also, points awarded to those who spotted the movie reference in chapter 8.

Until Next Time

Love

DancingInTheDark


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